


Mosaics

by Evslayer



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Child Soldiers, Choices, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Introversion, Language of Flowers, Prank Wars, Reading, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25383202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evslayer/pseuds/Evslayer
Summary: Sometimes Catra felt like shattered glass -- but maybe she's not the only one.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 102





	1. Micah

Catra padded lightly through the empty hallway. Even in the middle of the night, Bright Moon Castle was never dark. It was not like the Fright Zone, with its harsh lighting that was on at all hours; but it was not dark.

Catra wished it were dark.

Wandering the halls when everyone was asleep had become routine for her, since moving into the Castle. Adora would come back from a long day of rebuilding Etheria, with exhaustion in the lines of her face but a warm smile tucked into the corners of her smile and eyes, and wrap herself around Catra as she sunk into bed. Catra would lie still for the hour or so it would take for Adora to drift off, purring softly. And once Adora was asleep, Catra would carefully untangle herself from She-Ra’s mighty embrace and slip out of the room.

She had no destination in mind, just a slight awareness that she was choosing left or right as the hallways branched off ahead of her, up or down when stairs appeared. It was as she rounded a corner somewhere near the gardens at the back of the Castle that a flicker of dark appeared just out of sight, looming towards her, and Catra jumped away from it as -- _red lightening pain why me why me make it stop Adora help pain useless worthless don’t scream no one hear no one’s here_ – King Micah came into view.

She froze, hair on end, every muscle in her body tensed, breath quick and shallow. The King froze for a moment too, eyes wide, taking in Catra’s paralyzed form.

“Catra, it is just me,” he said, extending his hand towards her. As his fingertips brushed her shoulder Catra flinched – _nails digging into her shoulder why can’t you do anything right come with me you stupid child lightening pain red red red_ – Micah retracted his hand. For a moment, there was silence: Catra, locked in her own mind, Micah weighing the situation.

“Catra, it’s me, Micah,” he gestured at himself. “You are in Bright Moon Castle. Adora is just upstairs. There are only friends here. You are safe.”

Catra stared at him, as she slowly allowed each muscle to relax. Her fur settled, and she forced herself to inhale slowly. Her eyes didn’t move. Micah paused for another moment.

“I was just on my way to the kitchens to get something warm to drink; would you like to join me?” Catra nodded slowly, watching him as he turned back in the direction he had been going and began to walk. She paused for a moment, before following.

In a moment they arrived at a set of unassuming double doors that Micah pushed open, holding them for Catra as she passed carefully under his arm. He fiddled with something by the door, and lights flared up slowly around the kitchen. Micah made his way to a pantry in the back, searching for something. A soft “aha!” and he emerged with a slight grin, making his way to the large oven and snagging a pot along the way. He jerked his head, pulling Catra to where he stood.

“How about some warmed milk? It always helped me sleep when I was restless as a child.” Catra’s eyes went wide – _you did not bother Adora too much today, I suppose, but don’t you dare bother her tomorrow there there you are not unloved I care for you don’t forget no one else cares for you but I will always see that you have the potential to be useful you useless waste of_ – “Catra!” Micah’s firm voice pulled her away from the voice in her head. She sunk into herself, afraid to meet his eyes.

“Shadow Weaver, she – milk – when she –” the rest of her thoughts came out as empty air. Micah was quiet again. Suddenly he snapped his fingers.

“What if we add chocolate?” Catra quirked an eyebrow.

“To the milk?” Micah nodded excitedly.

“Yes! Chocolate melts, right? So, let’s put it in the milk and see what happens!” Catra considered the proposal.

“What if it’s terrible?” She countered. “Then we’re just wasting the Castle’s stores.” Micah grinned conspiratorially, and leaned in.

“That’s the fun part about being King,” he winked. Catra blinked, then snickered.

“Okay, let’s do it.” Micah pointed her to the shelf with the chocolate as he poured the milk into the pot, setting it by the low ember still glowing in the depths of the oven. Catra returned with the thick bar, cutting off a bit at Micah’s direction. They added it to the pot, and watched as it slowly melted out of sight. After some time had passed, Micah pulled the pot towards them, stirring the contents softly.

“Two spoons, please!” Catra handed one to him, as they both dipped into their concoction. Blowing softly, they sipped cautiously. Eyes widening simultaneously, they turned to each other and exclaimed,

“Adora will love this!”

“Glimmer will love this!”

Micah laughed as Catra giggled. The King snagged a ladle to fill two mugs, and led Catra over to a bench near a window, overlooking the kitchen’s herb garden. Soft moonlight spilled over the grass, and Catra’s tail twitched as the soft sway of a bush caused darkness to ripple. Micah watched her.

“What was it?” Catra turned towards him. She quirked an eyebrow in question. “In the hallway, what was it that triggered your fear?” Catra’s body tensed and she swung away, pulling her knees into her chest. Quiet filled the room, but it was warm, like the heaviness of a blanket. She could see the garden, feel Micah breathing softly beside her. Adora was just upstairs.

“Your shadow. It took me by surprise. Shadow Weaver-” she tightened the grip of her arms around her knees. A warm weight fell over her shoulders, but when she looked up Micah was watching the garden. Catra sighed. “Shadow Weaver used, well, shadows. And when she would punish me, her shadow was always the first sign it was coming.” Micah’s fingers squeezed softly.

“I won’t sit here and say that Mystacor and the Fright Zone are the same, but perhaps they shared some similarities.” Catra twitched an ear towards Micah’s voice. “Some of the student sorcerers were born in Mysatcor, the children of other great sorcerers. Others were brought there when they showed an aptitude for magic, taken from their families to study.” He paused. “I don’t know who my parents were, and I was lucky that Castaspella had enough magical potential to be brought with me.” His fingers pressed down again.

“We were kept apart though. I was… too talented. And I wanted to excel, to feel like I had worth. I didn’t have a family name, I didn’t have a home, I didn’t have a title or a future. But I had my limitless talent.” The last words were spit out bitterly, as Micah’s mouth twisted sourly.

“And Light Spinner was always there. To tell me how talented I was, how I did not need anyone else. Giving me special lessons, separating me from the other children. Telling my how much power I could have.” Micah sighed. “She was always manipulative, even as I craved her approval and affection.” A shadow entered Micah’s eyes, and Catra recognized it from her own reflection. She slowly leaned into Micah’s side, and let the rumble of his voice run through her.

“I still don’t know if she ever cared for me. She taught me so much, and I am who I am today because of her – but not _only_ because of her.” Catra let the words sink into her.

“Before she died,” Catra’s voice was smaller than she would have liked. “Before she died, she told me she was proud of me.” She felt Micah’s head shift and his gaze fall on her. “And, it mattered to me, I think. Like it made something better.” She huffed. “But I still jump at shadows.”

“I suspect the abuse I suffered at her hands is more similar to Adora’s than yours,” Micah muttered, absently. Catra tensed.

“She never abused Adora! She never touched her!” The King leaned away, and brought his hand to Catra’s chin forcing her to look at him. His eyes were bright, boring into her.

“She did not abuse Adora the same way she abused you. But Shadow Weaver was a manipulator. And manipulators know that each person is motivated by their own fear. For you, she used pain, and the affection you so craved. For me, she offered power and the chance to become someone of note. And for Adora, she used the punishing burden of expectations, of perfection,” he paused. “And the punishment of the only person Adora loved.” Catra inhaled sharply. She turned back to the garden.

“Do you think she still scares Adora?” A heartbeat of silence.

“I still question myself, wondering if I matter without my magic. Wondering if I had managed to be only a bit more powerful – would Angella still be with us?” Catra could hear the kind smile in his words. “You still jump at shadows. Does Adora do anything similar?”

Catra thought of Adora working all day, tiring herself out. Trying to be everywhere for everyone. She pictured Adora coming home at the end of the day, always finding Catra first, before taking her by the hand and leading her to dinner, then to bed.

“She always holds me. Like she’s afraid I won’t be there.” Micah pulled Catra back into his side.

“Or, like she is afraid someone will take you away.” Catra froze, as pieces fell into place in her mind.

A slight pressure on the top of her head, as Micah’s hair tickled her cheek. He pulled away from her and stood up, extending his hand once again. “Then perhaps we should get you back to her,” Catra numbly let him pull her to her feet. Micah put their mugs into the sink, with the pot they had used. The door of the kitchen shut softly behind them, and Catra paused.

“Your majesty –”

“Just Micah, please.” Catra swallowed and looked down.

“Could you –” the words would not come. Shyly, she reached for Micah’s hand. His grip tightened around hers, as pink light flooded the hallway. Catra looked up. The King’s free hand radiated a warm glow, the shadows melting away beneath it. He nodded, and smiled. Together they walked back to Adora’s room, Melog briefly appearing to wrap themself around Catra’s feet before vanishing again.

At Adora’s door, the pair paused. Catra’s hand slipped out of Micah’s. Then suddenly, her arms were wrapped tight around his waist. Slowly his hands came down, as he embraced her back.

“We are better than what she tried to make us,” he said quietly. Catra nodded against the warmth of his chest, a few tears escaping her eyes. They stood quietly for a long moment. Finally, Catra pulled away, nodding once at Micah, and slipping into the room.

Adora lay where she had left her, sprawled on her back, taking up the whole bed. Her empty arms twitched, grasping at air. There was a furrow in her brow, and her head jerked slightly to the rhythm of unknown dreams.

Catra padded over, and slipped back into her hold. Immediately, Adora’s vice of a grip came around her, even as the rest of her body relaxed. Catra purred softly, until the other girl’s face smoothed out. Catra followed her quickly into sleep.

***

The next time she slipped out, the lights along the route to the kitchen had doubled; not a shadow remained.


	2. Mermista

The door slammed shut behind her, and Catra exhaled in relief as the noise from the other room faded into silence. Eyes closed, she savored the calm. Best Friend Squad Plus Princess Alliance Game Night raged on behind her, but for a moment everything was still.

Until.

“What are _you_ doing here?” An arch voice drawled. Catra opened her eyes to be met with the sight of Mermista, sitting on a couch in front of the fire. She took a minute to look around the room; it was a small study, lined with half-full shelves, a desk shoved into one corner with a small window next to it. The couch was in front of a fireplace, Mermista leaning against the arm with a blanket draped across her lap. Her hands held a book.

Catra blinked a few times. Gulped. It wasn’t that she disliked Mermista. It was more that she had orchestrated the invasion and destruction of the other girl’s home, and even with everything that had happened after that and Catra’s integration into the friend group, the two of them had not exactly found time to chat. Or ever interact one-on-one.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought this room was empty. I can go,” Catra reached for the door handle. Mermista rolled her eyes.

“You can stay in here. Or whatever,” she turned back to her book. Catra blinked again, and slowly peeled herself away from the door. She drifted over to the shelves. The room was nice – comfortable. Plush carpet squished beneath her feet, her claws sinking into it. Her eyes drifted over the spines on the shelf.

_Agricultural Practices of the Crimson Waste._ Boring.

_Large Animal Anatomy, Volume 4: Beasts of the Whispering Woods._ She had had enough of large animals in the woods, thank you very much.

_The First Ones: Myths and Legends_. Catra spent every night next to a “First One Legend.” The snoring was enough without a book to explain it.

Sighing, she turned to the objects on the shelf. A globe, with a map of Etheria on it. She spun it slowly. While the kingdoms she was familiar with covered part of the sphere, much of it was empty. Catra frowned. Was it really empty? Did that make sense? Did empty mean empty like the ocean, or empty like the Crimson Waste? She kept it revolving as she thought, until it began to rattle – a screw popped out, and the ball dropped heavily, bouncing loudly off the shelf and landing on the rug with a heavy thud.

“I thought cats were supposed to be quiet.” Did it even count as sarcasm when it was that heavy? Catra whipped around. Mermista appeared engrossed in her book.

“I thought merpeople were supposed to stay away from fire,” Mermista flicked her eyes to the flames, then back.

“I’m just living life dangerously, conquering my fears,” she paused. “Sea Hawk would call it _adventure_ ,” Catra hadn’t been aware that there was a deeper level of sarcasm, but someone Mermista found it for that last word.

“You say that while snuggled under a blanket, reading,” Catra quipped, as she picked up the fallen globe and started screwing it back into its frame.

“Reading _is_ an adventure.” Catra frowned.

“What do you mean? Reading is boring. It’s work. Reports, data, planning – that’s what reading is for.” Mermista bolted up.

“You’ve never read for fun?” She exclaimed. Catra twitched an ear; she had never seen Mermista move that fast outside of battle.

“What would I read for fun?” The princess started digging around near her feet, pulling out a tattered book.

“Try this!” Catra made her way over to the couch, accepting the offering. _The Hound of Salineas._

“Why would I read a book about a dog. Do I really seem like I like dogs? And does the dog live underwater? Dogs don’t live underwater, that’s ridiculous.” Mermista grinned maniacally. It was terrifying.

“You’ll have to read it to find out.” Catra thought about it. She thought about the party happening in the room next door. She looked at the fireplace. She looked at the couch. Mermista casually pulled her feet back.

And so, Catra found herself curled up opposite from Mermista, thirty pages into _The Hound of Salineas_. So engrossed in the story, in fact, that she did not notice when Mermista closed her book around a finger and settled her gaze on Catra’s bowed head.

“You never answered my question,” Catra jumped.

“What question?”

“Why did you come in here?” Catra nervously pawed at the back of her neck.

“It was just really loud in the other room,” she muttered. Mermista kept watching her, as Catra’s tail began to beat against the pillow she was sitting on. The other girl’s eyes slid over to the fire.

“Sea Hawk loves people. He used to get all mopey when I wouldn’t bring him to hang out with my friends. He has all this energy, and the more time he spends interacting with the world, the more energy he has. It really makes him happy.” Mermista fiddled with the edge of her blanket. “I’m not like that. People are exhausting. It’s not that I don’t like spending time with my friends, it’s just – I can’t spend all my time with my friends, you know?” Catra mulled over her words.

“Yeah, I know.” Mermista looked back at her. “Adora’s like that too, always was. Even when we were kids in the Fright Zone, where we were barely allowed to have friends… she always wanted to be with everyone. And I just wanted to be alone. Or with her.” Catra flipped slowly through the book in her hands. “I like everyone. I really do. And I know I’m lucky I even get the chance to be friends with you all but sometimes I just need…”

“Quiet?” Catra wasn’t sure she had ever heard Mermista be kind, but that was the only word for the tone of her voice.

“Yeah.” Mermista’s mouth quirked up on one side. A smile.

“Books are quiet.” Catra laughed softly.

“I can understand the appeal. Especially when they’re not about supply chains.” Mermista chuckled. They turned back to their respective stories, and the room fell silent again.

The fireplace continued to crackle, as the light coming through the window started to fade. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Catra heard a groan.

“How are you still reading? It’s getting too dark for me,” Mermista huffed. “And I was just getting to a good part.” Catra laughed.

“Cat eyes, remember? Excellent night vision. Who knew it would be useful for this?” Mermista rolled her eyes, but smiled.

“Consider me jealous.” She threw the blanket off and got up, stretching as she turned towards the fire. “We should probably go back out there; they’ll eventually notice we’re missing and we wouldn’t want them to think you kidnapped me.” It was Catra’s turn to roll her eyes, but she slowly rose to her feet. She looked at her book, frowning; she hadn’t finished, but she didn’t want to forget where she was, and also where could she get another copy of it? Mermista’s hand appeared in her line of sight, waving a small piece of paper.

“A bookmark. So you remember where you stopped.” She slipped it on to the page Catra held open, and began to walk towards the door.

“Don’t you want your book back?” A pause.

“You didn’t finish it, right? It’s got a great ending. You can give it back to me next time we meet.” Mermista looked back, a positively _warm_ smile on her face. “And I have more that you can borrow, when you’re done.” Hesitation. “If you want.”

Catra nodded, matching her smile with her own, as the two of them slipped out into one of Bright Moon Castle’s sitting rooms. The noise immediately hit them.

“Glimmer, stop cheating! And it’s cheating regardless of whether it’s your birthright or the mystical arts!”

“I can’t help it Bow, I was born like this! These powers are part of me! It’s not cheating if it’s part of me!”

“Guys, stop fighting! Here, everyone who stops fighting gets a friendship flower!”

“A friendship flower, how about a friendship shanty!”

Mermista and Catra groaned in unison, before glancing at each other and sharing a smirk. At the sound, Adora turned around from where she was playing cards with Frosta. A smile bloomed. Catra could feel a matching one come over her face.

“It’s really not that bad,” Mermista said beside her, eyes fixed on Sea Hawk as he jumped on a table. Catra chuckled.

“No, it’s not.”

***

The next time Best Friend Squad Plus Princess Alliance Game Night happened, Adora noticed a side door left slightly ajar as she was coming back from a snack run to the kitchens. As she went to close it, she glanced inside. Warmth filled her at the sight. A fireplace and a couch; Mermista on one end, Catra on the other; both with their noses buried in books.

Adora quietly slipped the door shut.


	3. Bow

It was a beautiful, sunny day in Etheria. The heat had baked itself into the smooth stone of Bright Moon Castle, particularly the soaring rooftop to which Catra had climbed. From the rock the heat radiated into her body, and she reveled in the warmth. Half asleep, Catra lazily scratched at her nose, shifting slightly. It was peaceful, and quiet. A perfect respite from –

_THWACK_.

With a yelp, Catra rolled onto all fours, tail whipping around. Her eyes darted back and forth, but the roof was empty. A growl began to build in her throat as she slowly turned around, eyes narrowing on a golden arrow protruding proudly from the roof. A note waved happily from its length, like a white flag of surrender. Reluctantly, Catra plucked the paper towards herself.

“HI CATRA!” With a picture of a cat, and a picture of Bow. Catra rolled her eyes, though there was no one there to appreciate her disdain.

_THWACK._

Another yelp, another roll, another arrow. Another note.

“THIS IS FROM BOW!” Catra considered clawing her eyes out.

_THWACK_. For the third time, Catra found herself smoothing down her frazzled tail, patting her hair for good measure.

“COME DOWN!” Sighing, she looked over the edge of the roof. Far below her, she caught sight of a small figure in white, waving enthusiastically as he spotted her. With a groan, she began the long descent down the side of the building.

But not before grabbing the arrows and sticking them in her belt. She wasn’t mean enough to doom Bow to a long and painful retrieval mission. Well, nowadays she wasn’t mean enough.

A final jump and a twist, and she landed on her feet at the edge of one of Bright Moon Castle’s many gardens. Experience taught her to brace for Bow’s pummeling embrace the moment she was within arms’ reach; she tensed in expectation. But the hit never came. Instead, she cracked her eyes to the sight of Bow’s back, striding away from her towards the Woods.

“Bow?” She jogged after him.

“Catra?”

“Did you need me for something?” He didn’t turn around.

“Just thought you might want to join me on a walk.” Brow furrowed, Catra caught up and matched his pace. He looked calm, in profile. Not upset, not even particularly determined. If anything, his face was completely blank.

As a general rule, Catra was good at reading people. As a general rule, Bow never hid his emotions. It was a day for breaking rules.

The two of them made their way along an increasingly well-trodden path that curled away from the Castle grounds and between the trees. Like passing through an unseen curtain, entering the Whispering Woods immediately damped all noise, a partial gloom settling around them. After a moment, Catra’s ears started registering new sounds; rustling branches, a distant bird, the crack of Bow’s increasing quick steps.

The path they were on had a single destination, a clearing that was unofficially the dock for Mara’s ship. But there were no pressing trips that Catra was aware of; no crisis that required near-instantaneous travel. She certainly hoped they were not about to take an impromptu trip into space. The hulking mass of the vessel started to take shape before them; Bow still had not said a word.

“Bow?”

“Catra?”

“Is everything okay?” Bow didn’t so much as twitch in her direction.

“Everything’s great.” The words were clipped, mechanical, as if his mouth knew the right thing to say but his heart was nowhere near the message. They broke into the clearing, Catra panting lightly from the brisk pace Bow had set.

“Bow, what’s going on?” He stopped, still facing away from her. For a long moment, Catra thought he hadn’t heard her.

“What’s going on. Catra, everything is going on.” The words started slow, but soon began to tumble out. “There’s so much to do. We have to fix the ship, and fix the planet, and then after that we have to fix _space_ , and while we’re working on the present there is so much we still don’t know about our past, and if we don’t have a good grasp on the past how can we have a future? And what even is our future now, now that the war is over?” He finally rounded on her, an unfamiliar desperation in his eyes.

“We have been at war our whole lives, and now it’s just gone! But we’re still here, and I can’t bring myself to take my quiver off my back and Glimmer screams in her sleep and I can’t fix it, I can’t make it better, because all I’ve ever known is battle and destruction.” Catra stood wide-eyed, silent. She counted three breaths.

“Bow, you know I’m not exactly the feelings friend, right?” She said as gently as she could. Something dark twisted across his face.

“Yeah, I know -- but you are the fuck-up friend,” he snarled. 

Catra felt her body freeze, each muscle tensing into position and her hair standing on end. Bow's face shifted into a pained horror. A sob burst out of him, from the depths of his stomach. 

“And I keep fucking up.” As if the words had been the only thing holding him up, he collapsed to his knees, dry-heaving.

Catra wanted to run, to turn back into the Woods and stay away from the brief moment of hate she had seen strike Bow’s kind face. The only thing that could make the friendliest man in Etheria say something that cruel, was something truly awful – something like her. She could feel sharp breaths cutting through her as despair started to press down. Catra wanted to hide.

A small voice that sounded like Perfuma tutted in her head. _It’s hard, keeping your heart open._

She caught a breath. Then two. Slowly, Catra unclenched her fists, letting the pinpricks from her claws fade away. She made her way over to Bow’s gasping form, and sank to her knees, wrapping an arm across his back. Catra scrambled for something more she could do.

If it were Adora, she would pull her head into her lap. She would do that because she loved Adora. 

Well, she also loved Bow.

She tugged him down, cradling his head as he curled up, facing away from her. Her arms stayed tight around him, and her tail made its way around his calf. His quiet sobs were the only sound in the muffled Woods.

Catra held on until his shudders faded away, and the pressure of the Woods returned. Neither of them moved.

“Bow,” his name rang out like a crack in the silence. Catra felt him curl up even tighter. “I don’t know what exactly is making you feel this way. But I do know that you haven’t betrayed the love of your life, helped a clone try and take over your home planet, betrayed your other friend by sending her to a death-trap of an island, set off a reality-shattering portal that killed a queen, or inadvertently brought a galaxy-conquering madman to Etheria’s doorstep.”

“Technically, that last one was Glimmer,” a small voice muttered from the vicinity of her lap. Catra snorted.

“The point is, I am the fuck-up friend. So, allow me to put all my mistakes to good use when I tell you, whatever is going on, you _have not fucked up_.” Bow inhaled slowing. A long exhale. His body relaxed into her grip. She let the silence hold for few minutes.

“Glimmer can be the runner up for fuck-up friend. I refuse to relinquish my title.” She felt Bow’s chuckle before she heard it. Slowly, he pulled himself off of her, wrapping his arms around his knees. She mirrored him.

“You’re not a fuck-up,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Catra smiled.

“Yes I am. At the very least, I’m a former fuck-up. Reformed fuck-up? Working on it, at the very least.” Finally, Bow cracked a smile.

“Bow, what’s going on?” She asked softly. He dropped his head into his arms. “Is the world ending?” A shake. “Then it’s almost definitely going to be okay.” He sighed, and flopped on to his back.

“My dads have a library. It’s beautiful,” he sounded wistful. “I grew up there, surrounded by books, and history, artifacts from the days of the First Ones. It was a wonderful childhood.” A shuffle, as Bow slipped a hand under his head. “I was supposed to take over the library. I have brothers, but I guess as the youngest I was the most sheltered, the last one left at home – so the library would be my home forever. My future, my destiny.

“But one day I found my dad’s old journal, from when he was part of the Rebellion. And I learned that the world was more than the past, and books, and a loving home. That there were bigger things to think about.” A sad smile.

“That night, I asked my dads about the Rebellion, and if it still existed. They didn’t want me to know about it, but they value knowledge above all else – so they told me everything. About the Horde, the failure of the first Princess Alliance, King Micah’s supposed death.” Bow frowned. “And then they put me to bed, and told me to be ready for my lessons in the morning.

“And so, I made my first choice.” He said the word firmly, with conviction. “That night I snuck into the woods, and immediately got lost. I was scared – and then I saw a pink light.” Bow’s eyes glowed with the memory. “And that’s how I met Glimmer. And joined the Rebellion. And never looked back.” Catra sifted through his words.

“And now you’re looking back?” Bow’s eyes widened for a moment, before he nodded.

“The Rebellion’s over – that choice doesn’t matter anymore. Who’s going to take care of the library, when my dads can’t do it anymore? I abandoned it – no, I abandoned my path. And the one I picked just ran out. So where do I go now? What’s my future now?”

Catra smirked.

“Arrow-boy! That’s what’s fun about _winning_.” Bow looked at her with confusion. “You get to choose whatever future you want.” He glanced away from her.

“It’s not that easy.” Catra rolled her eyes.

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn’t! There are all these things I need to do and I don’t know how to do _any_ of them!” Bow shouted. He’d sat up during the outburst, and was breathing heavily again. Catra ran her eyes across his face, noting the exhaustion that lined it. She glanced over to where Mara’s ship sat, unmoved since their run through Horde Prime’s blockade. The Woods swayed slightly; a bird, bright with the magic She-Ra had freed, skimmed the tree tops. She looked back at Bow.

“Okay then. What do you need to do?” Bow blinked, before reaching for his quiver. He fumbled through the arrows, before tugging one out. With a smooth motion, he slammed the tip of it into the ground. Catra flinched; a note unfurled.

“Bow?”

“Catra?”

“Did you use one of your message-arrows to write down a list of tasks that need to get done?” He glowered at her defensively.

“I didn’t have any paper on me.” They froze for a moment, Bow pouting, Catra’s ear twitching from pressure of a restrained smile. Suddenly a flood of laughter erupted, chasing away the heaviness that had clung to them like mud.

“Show me your list, Arrow-boy.” Bow handed her the arrow-scroll.

  1. _Fix Mara’s ship_
  2. _Re-establish Scorpia’s kingdom_
  3. _Get Sea Hawk a new boat_
  4. _Figure out what to do about the Crimson Waste_
  5. _Negotiate comprehensive peace and trade (unity?) treaty between the kingdoms_
  6. _Tell Glimmer_
  7. _Find material to rebuild villages (indestructible?)_
  8. _Restore magic to the universe_



“Bow,” he glanced at her. “You literally can’t do half of these things.” He groaned.

“I know! That’s the problem!” Catra rapped his shoulder sharply with the arrow.

“You idiot, that’s not a problem! You just need to figure out who _can_ do these things!” Bow just stared at her. Now she groaned. “For example, have Entrapta fix Mara’s ship. She’s way better at this stuff than you, and she’ll have fun. While she’s at it, ask her to work on a plan to start figuring out what planets might need magic and how we’re going to find them.” Catra looked at the list. “That should take care of numbers 1 and 8.” Bow was still staring at her.

“Scorpia is going to have to make her own way with her kingdom, but we can help her when she asks. For now, send Perfuma with her to get things going. Sea Hawk is Mermista’s problem, not yours. I actually saw a book the other day about agriculture in the Crimson Waste, so maybe there’s something there, which could also maybe make the Crimson Waste part of this treaty you’re thinking about, and actually Huntera could probably do a lot of good there – she’s run it before.” Catra squinted at the list again.

“Oh how about you use some of the metal from the Fright Zone to rebuild the villages? We can probably mold it to look less scary, and if we pay Scorpia for the material that’ll give her new kingdom some funds. Or they can trade for whatever she needs. The Fright Zone actually has a pretty sophisticated forge-refinery set up, so actually that might be a great way for Scorpia’s kingdom to contribute to the treaty system.” Catra mulled it over for a minute, before glancing over at Bow and immediately regretting it.

Bow’s eyes were filled with tears, and a thrilled smile had taken over his face.

“You’re great at this!” Catra rolled her eyes, getting to her feet.

“You can be great at this too, if you want. And if you don’t want that, I’ll help.” She extended her hand. “It’s still your choice Bow. You get to make more than one choice.” Catra scratched at her neck. “I had to make a lot of choices to end up here.” Bow’s smile faded into something softer, something warm. He grasped her hand and let Catra pull him to his feet.

“Okay.” They turned back to the path that had brought them there.

“Bow?”

“Catra?”

“I don’t think I can help you with number 6.” Bow laughed, a blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Yeah, that one is on me.” That soft smile again. “But that’s an easy choice to make.”

***

Catra shut the door to the small study behind her. Mermista was already sprawled on the couch. She would be there for a while, going by the small stack of books sitting on the floor beside her. Catra spared a longing glance for the pile, before padding over to the desk. She dropped the stack of papers Bow had handed her onto the surface, pulled up a chair, and got to work.


	4. Frosta

It wasn’t supposed to be a party, but then Bow pulled out his lute and a couple of the Bright Moon locals grabbed their own instruments, the kitchen staff appeared with snacks and cakes, and suddenly there was dancing. Catra and Adora took turns leading, trading off with each song, competing to see who could dip the other lower, until their laughter shook them off balance and they stumbled to the ground in a pile of limbs. They caught their breath as they untangled themselves, slowing pulling each other to their feet.

“Dorks,” Catra heard Mermista mutter as she led a surprisingly restrained Sea Hawk on to what was now the dance floor. Catra stuck her tongue out at her, as Adora’s front pressed against her back, arms folding themselves around Catra’s waist. Catra leaned back into the hold, and the two of them swayed softly to the music. Gently, Adora pulled Catra around to face her.

As she spun, Catra made sure to etch the scene into her mind. Bow, strumming as Melog curled around his feet; Mermista, leading Sea Hawk in a set of steps more refined than his usual fair; Netossa and Spinerella, the only couple on the floor more competitive than Adora and herself; Perfuma, pushing Scorpia towards the musicians as she cajoled her to sing; and in the middle of it all, King Micah twirling his daughter around and around.

Glimmer’s laugh filled the room. It was carefree, and as light as her gossamer cape. Her hair and eyes glinted in the dimming light, but it was her smile that shone above all else. Micah’s face matched hers, still filled with wonder, as if he couldn’t believe that he got to hold his daughter in his arms in a room full of warmth.

It was a beautiful sight, Catra thought to herself as her eyes settled into Adora’s and she fell lightly into the bigger girl’s frame.

“Hello everyone!” Perfuma’s voice rang out, cutting off the music. “Scorpia has kindly agreed to sing for all of us – so please, welcome to the stage, Scorpia!” Everyone laughed and applauded kindly, as the dancers moved off the floor.

Catra stretched up to Adora’s ear. “I’m going to run to the bathroom, okay?” Adora smiled down at her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead as her arms dropped away. Catra slipped around away from the party, enjoying the view of the sun setting over the Whispering Woods.

The sounds of the party faded as Catra made her way around a corner. She breathed in the quiet, smiling gently to herself as she felt the ghost of Adora’s arms around her. While her trip to the bathroom was an excuse to take a break from the party, she had no plans to make it a long one.

Then, the wind shifted; Catra’s ears twitched as the breeze carried with it the sound of something shattering. It was faint, but threats still existed even in post-war Etheria. She frowned, threw a quick look over her shoulder towards the gathering, before jumping up into the trees. From one branch to the next, Catra hopped lightly along, until she found herself overlooking the Bright Moon Castle training yard.

Light from the lamps surrounding the space refracted in shimmers across the grass, bouncing off of shards and shards of ice. More ice than Catra was used to seeing, even when the small figure at the center of the mess was training with the rest of the princesses. Frosta kept lobbing her chunks, each throw accompanied with a grunt of effort. It looked like at some point she had been practicing her aim; a few targets sat a few yards away from her, decimated. But now it was a wild, thoughtless activity that cycled through a rhythm of sounds: the crystalline crackle of the ice forming, the slight scream as the Princess launched the projectile, the crash as it hit the ground.

Catra watched from above waiting for a change in the pattern. None came. Finally, she dropped silently from her branch, and made her way to the circle of light.

“Frosta!” The girl’s head whipped up. Frosta’s eyes widened as fresh ice formed around her fists. Something glimmered on her face.

“Frosta, it’s just me. It’s Catra.” She raised her hands and moved slowly forward, carefully watching Frosta for any sign of an attack. The other girl panted heavily, as she registered who was there. Before Catra could reach her, she fired off the ice in her hands, then folded her arms to glare at Catra.

“What are you doing here?” Catra asked gently. The two of them had never been on the best terms; Frosta liked to hold a grudge, and Catra had never seen a need to endear herself to the youngest of the princesses. Frosta raised her chin defiantly.

“Training, duh.” The closer Catra got, the more the strange reflection on her cheeks caught her attention; frozen tears, she realized.

“Okay. Do you want someone to spar with?” Frosta looked like she was going to say yes, before hesitating, and dropping her gaze to the ground.

“That’s- that’s not allowed. I’m not to use my powers when I’m upset,” she stated quietly. “If I lose control I could really hurt someone.” The words sounded odd to Catra, distinct from Frosta’s usual cadence.

“Who told you that?” Frosta’s crossed arms had shifted from a defiant gesture to a defensive hug.

“My parents.” Catra ran through what she knew about Frosta’s family in her head.

“You’ve been princess for a while, right? Since you were young?” Frosta nodded.

“Since I was eight.” Catra reached out slowly, lightly resting a hand on her shoulder.

“That’s a lot of responsibility for an eight-year-old.” Frosta leaned into her hand, ever so slightly.

“There was an accident. My mom was using her powers to try and stop an avalanche that was threatening one of our villages, and when it hit my dad dove in to try and save her.” A sad smile crossed her face. “They were always inseparable. I remember that much.” Frosta sniffed softly. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember.”

Catra bit her tongue; there was something that needed to be said, but she hadn’t figured it out yet. She had seen angry grief, despairing grief, even dealt with the hysterical grief to which Adora was prone; but this calm grief was new. She reached for words.

“I’m sorry.” Frosta chuckled softly.

“For what? The only role you have in this is messing up the first official event I hosted after taking over.” Catra snorted.

“Well, I’m sorry for that too. Even if my apology is a few years late.” Frosta shrugged again. Catra scrambled again for something to say.

“I never knew my parents. I don’t even know if I’m an orphan, if the Horde kidnapped me, or if they didn’t want me and just left me on the steps of the Fright Zone.” She huffed. “Adora told me I came in a box, whatever that means.” Frosta burst out laughing.

“Really a box?” Catra smiled at Frosta’s reaction.

“Yeah, a box!” She started waving her hands around, sketching out the scene. “Apparently there was a torn-up blanket in it and I was huddled under it, and refusing to come out, so Adora spent like two hours whispering to me about how it was safe and okay, and finally I popped my head out and the blanket was stuck on my ears.”

Frosta was shaking with mirth. “You mean that the greatest threat the rebellion ever faced, the person who came the closest to conquering Etheria and destroying the world as we knew it, came from a box?!”

Catra rapped her knuckles on the shorter girl’s head, rolling her eyes and scoffing.

“I think we can agree that Horde Prime was the greatest threat Etheria ever faced.” 

“Nuh-uh! He was like, boring bad. You were smart bad. Horde Prime could have conquered us, but you would have _destroyed_ us.” Catra snorted again.

“I didn’t think you thought so highly of me, Shortstack.” Frosta knocked her hand off her head.

“I’m not an idiot, I have eyes. And a brain.” Catra leaned in close to her ear.

“You might be the only one of the bunch with one of those,” she whispered. Frosta giggled.

Catra looked around the yard. “So why are you upset? I thought I saw you at the party earlier.” Frosta shrugged.

“I saw Glimmer and her dad dancing and it made me sad. And when I am sad I should go away from other people so I do not impose my sadness on my friends, or show weakness to my enemies.” She recited.

“Who told you that?” Frosta shifted out from Catra’s loose hold and stepped away.

“My advisors when I took the throne. My position was weak enough; letting people see that I was hurting would only make it worse.” A small, younger part of Catra ached at those words. Frosta raised her hands, and the shattered ice rose with them; for a moment, they were surrounding by a shimmering, shifting wall of light. Slowly, she started fusing the shards.

“When I was eight we had a training exercise. Adora did really well and got extra food for dinner. I screwed up, like I always did, and was given half rations. But she shared her food with me, and I was so happy I licked her face.” Catra smiled at the memory. “It made Adora laugh, and I really liked it when Adora laughed. So I licked her again and again and again.” Frosta kept the ice moving, slowly shifting it into a sculpture of some sort.

“Then Shadow Weaver saw us. She pulled me off Adora and took me to her room, and-” Catra hesitated, but Frosta seemed focused on her project. “Well, she punished me. And that’s how I learned that I wasn’t supposed to lick people.” Frosta’s back was still towards her. Catra sighed.

“I guess, I’m not trying to say I get what you went through, but being told horrible things when you’re eight sucks.” She cleared her throat. “I just wanted to acknowledge that.”

Frosta’s efforts had resolved themselves into a rough sculpture of a man and a woman, their figures blending into one another. She stared at it for a long moment, before twisting towards Catra and gesturing towards the ice.

“My parents, I think.” She reached out and took Catra’s hand. “I think they would like that I told you I was sad.” Catra tugged on their link, and pulled Frosta into a tight hug, resting her chin on her head. She felt Frosta shake, and the slight coolness of tears sinking into her collarbone. Suddenly, Melog appeared, made themself as small as a kitten, and jumped up to wrap around Frosta’s shoulders. She laughed, sniffling.

Catra raised her tail, and used it to wipe away the lingering tears. Frosta laughed again, finally making eye contact.

“Do you get to lick Adora now?” Catra snickered.

“Yeah, I’m a _lot_ more comfortable with expressing affection these days.” Frosta took Catra’s hand and gently tugged her in the direction of the party. As they passed the ice sculpture, she briefly trailed her other hand across the serene faces of the figures.

“You sure you’re okay?” Catra asked softly. Frosta took a deep breath.

“Yeah. Okay enough. It always gets better.” Catra squeezed her hand. The noises of the party reached them before the lights; they heard Scorpia belting an impressively long note. Applause soon followed. Catra stopped them before they rounded the final corner.

“Hey, if you’re not fine, come find me okay? We can leave, or we can prank Micah and Glimmer, or whatever else you want.” Frosta grinned, and Catra was reminded of her own wicked smile from her younger days.

“Is pranking them really fair?” Catra flicked her hand.

“Psh. Glimmer gets to spend time with her _dad_. She can handle a prank or two.” Frosta’s smile only grew wider, as she pulled Catra around the bend.

***

The next morning, Micah and Glimmer sat down to breakfast as they usually did, at their usual table in the dining hall – and promptly slipped off their icy seats, thumping ungracefully on to the floor. As she pulled herself to her feet, Glimmer caught a wisp of tail and a blue jacket vanishing around the corner, laughter echoing in their wake. 


	5. Perfuma

Catra warily watched the glowing mote as it drifted on the breeze. While common throughout Etheria, pollen fell much thicker in Plumeria. Even more so, now that She-Ra had supercharged the planet. The pollen did not do any harm per se, and Perfuma swore that it made all plants grow bigger and healthier, but Catra couldn’t stand the stuff. Every time it came near her she –

“Achoo!”

Sneezed. One of Perfuma’s citizens giggled; Catra threw a sharp glare at them, baring her teeth a bit to really make it count. The giggling stopped. Catra smirked, and turned back to her destination, not letting the distraction break her stride, at least until –

“Achoo!” A soft growl started to build in her throat, as she irritably waved her hand in front of her nose, trying to brush the particles away.

“Catra!” A light voice called out. She shifted her attention ahead of her, catching sight of Perfuma waving enthusiastically at her. The princess was kneeling in a garden, surrounding by rows and rows of different plants. Why Perfuma even bothered cultivating gardens when the entire realm was a mass of flora… but the Princess insisted that it was good to maintain some formal structure.

As she padded closer, Perfuma stood, beckoning her into the garden.

“What do you think? I am picking out plants for the Fright Zone, to make it a bit homier for Scorpia.” Catra raised an eyebrow.

“Isn’t the Fright Zone already covered in plants?” Perfuma blushed.

“Yes well, it’s all wild plants! Which is great, but I thought something with a theme, something more Scorpia, would be good for the area around her Hall.” Catra suppressed a snort.

“I’m sure Scorpia will like whatever you choose.” The color in Perfuma’s cheeks deepened until her face matched her dress.

“Achoo!” 

Perfuma laughed, brushing grass from her knees.

“I swear, your kingdom hates me,” Catra grumbled, pawing at her nose again. Perfuma grinned.

“Or maybe we’re just trying to get you to blossom!” Catra glared.

“That was terrible.” A giggle. Perfuma started to walk deeper into the garden, Catra following beside her.

“So, what brings you to Plumeria today?” Catra crossed her arms, and took a moment to take in the fields around them.

“I just… thought it might be nice to talk,” she muttered. Perfuma looked at her quietly for a long minute.

“Oh?” They had reached a clearing near the back of the garden, where the rows of plants bent around a small pond. The water glinted in the light of the sun, dotted with bright lilies. Perfuma sank to her knees again. After a moment, Catra sat down next to her, pulling her legs into her chest and wrapping her tail around herself.

“Micah – King Micah – he said I should maybe talk to someone. About some stuff,” she managed to get out. Perfuma looked confused for a moment, before her eyes widened and a bright smile came over her face.

“Oh wonderful! Would you like to start with your negativity or with your abandonment issues?” She clapped her hands together eagerly. Catra looked away from Perfuma, as her tail started to beat the ground. Perfuma’s smile faded. “Or something else?” She asked gently.

Catra cleared her throat. Clawed at the back of her neck. Smoothed down the end of her tail.

“I thought maybe I could talk about Shadow Weaver,” she finally muttered. Perfuma inhaled sharply, as her face shifted through shock and confusion, finally settling on an expression of forced serenity.

“What about Shadow Weaver?” Catra fidgeted some more.

“Just the stuff she used to do to us when we were kids.” She cleared her throat. “Well, what she used to do to me. Adora’s stuff is Adora’s stuff, you know.” She glanced over at Perfuma, catching the Princess with a slight furrow in her brow.

“What kind of stuff did she do to you?” Perfuma’s voice was even. Catra picked at a stain on her knee.

“Shadow Weaver stuff.” Catra huffed. “Okay, you know Scorpia’s princess power? The red lightning? Well when she was using the Red Garnet, Shadow Weaver could sort of use that kind of lightning.” Perfuma’s furrow deepened.

“What did she do with the lightning?” Catra’s head whipped around and she stared at Perfuma. She blinked.

“What do you mean what did she do with the lightning?” Perfuma showed no indication of understanding. “Lightning only really does one thing. It shocks people. It hurts people.” Her voice cracked. She could almost hear Perfuma’s internal voice counting off her meditative breathing counts -- in, two, three, out, two three – as her face twitched.

“Did she hurt you?” Catra scoffed.

“Of course she hurt me. She hurt me all the time. It was a normal, day-to-day thing.” Perfuma exhaled; deeply, slowly.

“Why did she hurt you?” Catra shrugged.

“That’s what people do to kids when they do something wrong, right? I was walking through Bright Moon Village the other day and I saw a mom tell her kid that they had to go to sleep without supper for breaking a vase or something. Shadow Weaver was just doing the same thing.” Catra scowled. “In her own way.”

Another long breath from Perfuma.

“Catra - _why_ did Shadow Weaver hurt you?” Almost idly, Catra noticed that the fur on her tail was standing on end.

“Different reasons? Like, sometimes it was because I didn’t do well in training. Or maybe Adora didn’t do well in training. One time it was because she caught me sneaking into the room where she kept the Red Garnet.” Catra dug deeper into her memories. “Oh! There was the time she caught me hiding when I was sick. And the time she caught me stealing an extra blanket for Adora when she had a fever and was shivering. Also the first time she saw me sleeping on Adora’s bed. She gave up on punishing me for that though, since I just kept going back no matter what she did.” Catra smiled, remembering how a worried Adora would push her away while still awake, and drag her close once sleep started to drift over her.

“Catra-”

“That was all when we were kids, of course. Once Adora left I got punished for that, and when she couldn’t get Adora back using her magic she took it out on me. And then she –” Catra cut herself off. “Like I said, it was just normal.”

“That’s not normal!” Catra jumped; it was rare to hear Perfuma yell, and never had she heard her shriek. “That’s not even close to normal! How are you just… saying all this?” Catra looked at the princess and found tears in the corners of her eyes.

“Perfuma,” she faltered. “Perfuma, that’s just how it was. That’s how I grew up. I didn’t know it was supposed to be different?” She trailed off into a question. Perfuma slid onto her knees, reaching out and pulling Catra’s hands between her own.

“Catra, parents punish their children. But for reasons, and to teach them lessons. Not because they had a bad day, or because someone else did something wrong, or because they cared for a friend!” On the word ‘friend’ Perfuma froze, something clicking into place. She exhaled again.

“Catra, remember how guilty you felt about the way you treated Entrapta and Scorpia?” Catra frowned at the sudden change in topic.

“Yes? I still feel guilty. She shrugged. Perfuma sighed.

“Do you ever think, maybe, you tried to keep them from becoming your friends to protect them?” Catra twitched an ear, but Perfuma didn’t notice – Adora would have known it meant she was confused and wanted an explanation. But she would have to use her words.

“Protect them from what?”

“From Shadow Weaver.” Catra tugged on her hands, but Perfuma held them tightly.

“Shadow Weaver wasn’t even there when I was being the worst to them.” Perfuma smiled sadly.

“But you grew up with Shadow Weaver constantly punishing you for the one friend you had. In the back of your head, in the bottom of your heart – were you keeping them away so that they couldn’t possibly get hurt? The way you got hurt?” Catra jerked stiffly, her eyes losing focus. She played through her own history, checking it against Perfuma’s words. Perfuma watched until understanding dawned over Catra’s face.

“Catra, you never meant to hurt them. You just wanted to keep them safe.” Catra turned to her with a look full of wonder.

“Oh.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I- achoo!”

Catra froze again. She looked at Perfuma, who maintained her calm demeanor except for a tremor in the corner of her mouth. She could work with that. “I think I get it. It doesn’t- ACHOO!”

Perfuma burst. Raucous laughter poured out of her; Catra tried to reach for her righteous indignation but – it wasn’t worth it. She let her own peals and squeaks pour out of her, as the two of them collapsed on to the grass until their mirth ran dry. Catra stared at the clouds, feeling the sun warm her.

“Perfuma?”

“Mm?”

“I suppose parents usually don’t punish children with extremely painful shocks of electricity?” Perfuma turned her head towards her, once again wearing that sad smile.

“No Catra, they do not.” 

She blew a speck of pollen away from her face. “I’m glad my experience wasn’t normal, then.”

“Catra,” Perfuma hesitated. “Why did you stay friends with Adora? If you kept getting punished for it.” Catra stretched her arms out above her head, arching her back slightly before relaxing with a sigh.

“I don’t know. Adora’s just Adora, you know? She was always special. To me.” A soft laugh escaped her. “I didn’t need her to grow up, or find a magic sword, or turn into a hero for her to be important. Adora has been the only good thing in my life since the day she coaxed me out of a box.” She turned to meet Perfuma’s eyes. “Shadow Weaver could never make me give up the one bit of joy in my life. It was Adora, or nothing.”

A pensive look entered Perfuma’s eyes. “Do you remember when Netossa was giving me a hard time about not making full use of my powers?” She paused until Catra nodded. “Well, I always believed that my ability to love was more important than my powers. But I think I’m starting to understand that the two are connected. Love fuels magic, and makes it stronger.” Catra smiled.

“You think so?” She crossed her legs. “Shadow Weaver never picked that lesson up. She thought magic was all about clarity, and purpose; no emotional distractions.” Perfuma sat up.

“But that is what’s so incredible! Even though you were taught your whole life that love was bad, you somehow knew that was wrong. And at the very end of the world, you trusted your instincts and let love guide you!” Catra snorted.

“Giving me a little too much credit there, Perfuma. I thought Adora was dying, and just needed to tell her the truth. For once.” She grinned. “And after that, well, I just wanted to kiss her.” Perfuma whacked her on the shoulder. Hey!”

“I don’t care how cynical you are, somewhere you knew what you were doing, and what the answer was. And you did exactly what needed to be done,” she stated firmly, her eyes glimmering as she looked down at Catra. “You got it right when Shadow Weaver, Horde Prime, even Adora could not figure out the answer.” Catra’s eyes widened, before softening into a smile.

“Well when you put it that way.” Catra rolled to her feet, helping Perfuma up after her. Her eyes darted around, one arm grabbing at the elbow of the other. “Thanks for listening. And explaining.” She coughed lightly. “I think Scorpia would really like the red roses. For the Fright Zone.”

Perfuma grinned widely. With a twirl of her hand, a white flower bloomed. Moving slowly, she tucked it behind Catra’s left ear.

“A magnolia.” She let her hand drop to Catra’s shoulder. “It symbolizes perseverance.” Catra grinned back, and let Perfuma tug her into hug.

***

A week later, Catra woke up and strolled onto the balcony that jutted out from the room she shared with Adora. She yawned and stretched, enjoying the sun. Slowly, her eyes rolled over the lawn below her – white and pink magnolias covered it as far as she could see. A single red rose lay on the bannister. Catra smiled, and brought it in to Adora.


End file.
